


Driftwood Heart

by nh8343



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, Magical Realism, Misunderstandings, Self-Discovery, coming of age metaphors, island imagery, long hair!yuta, ocean imagery, that last one doesn't affect the plot but it's still important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22527445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nh8343/pseuds/nh8343
Summary: For a few seconds too long, Taeyong watches the still frame of Yuta’s form balanced perfectly on that horizon line and tries to believe he won’t need to preserve it anywhere but in his memories.Because the very sea that has been Taeyong’s companion since birth, the same sea that had carried Yuta to Taeyong’s island in the first place, may yet be the one to pull him away.
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	Driftwood Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something that wouldn't leave me alone. Hope you enjoy!

Taeyong knew he’d find him here.

Yuta has always been a man of action, one more keen to put his feet to the ground and make a change than to sit around talking about it. Most days he has enough energy to get through his half of their shared routine without stopping for a single break. Sometimes it seems like his presence alone is akin to a human-sized generator, shooting off crackling currents of energy and leaving Taeyong’s mouth tasting like ozone after a lightning strike. And yet, not for the first time, Yuta has been drawn here.

If he was going to pick a favorite spot, Taeyong can’t fault the other man for his choice. The cliffsides on the island’s north edge are striking. They jut out over the edge far enough that Yuta’s distance from the ledge makes Taeyong’s heart beat noticeably faster, but not so far that one can’t see the white foam of the crashing waves below. An ocean breeze carries the sharp smell of salt and the echoing cries of gulls circling overhead. It makes Yuta look like he’s part of a painting; it makes it seem even more than usual like he’ll turn back into seafoam and disappear as quickly as he’d arrived.

One clear of Taeyong’s throat isn’t enough to break the other man’s trance. When Yuta has these moments to be still, to allow his thoughts to wander somewhere far beyond the line where the sea meets the sky, it will take more than that to reel him back in.

“Yuta,” he finally calls.

The spell is broken. Yuta doesn’t jump, or startle at the sound. They’re far too in tune with each other for that. But he does turn around to acknowledge he's heard, the faraway look in his eyes clearing like clouds after rain.

“I made dinner, if you want some,” Taeyong continues, trying to steady his own expression. “The crab you caught this morning seems like it’ll be delicious.”

The smile on Yuta’s face is guileless enough to soothe Taeyong’s heightened pulse. When he speaks, his words hide nothing. “Sounds good to me. Give me just a few more minutes and I’ll be there, okay?”

As quickly as it had righted itself, Taeyong’s heart sinks again. “Okay,” he says softly.

He steps back as Yuta turns once again to face the waves. For a few seconds too long, he watches the still frame of Yuta’s form balanced perfectly on that horizon line and tries to believe he won’t need to preserve it anywhere but in his memories.

Because the very sea that has been Taeyong’s companion since birth, the same sea that had carried Yuta to Taeyong’s island in the first place, may yet be the one to pull him away.

☸

The island has been Taeyong’s home for as long as he can remember. His parents, who’d been born in the nearby port, had wanted to raise their children several steps removed from the cacophony of raised voices and rotten smells. He’d grown up instead in this world of woven nets and isolation. The sea, Taeyong’s parents always told him, would provide. Whether it be food or wayward debris or protection from the outside world, it would always provide. For the most part, that’s remained to be true.

Yet for all its beauty and generosity, the sea also takes without mercy. It takes both of his parents in a fishing trip they never return from, swallowing them both in its inescapable embrace and leaving a twelve year old Taeyong with nothing but the unnamed island and the memories of his parents’ lessons.

He makes it through. Despite the harsh words he spends days screaming at the water, Taeyong has already grown attached to his home. How could he not? Aside from being the only life he’s ever known, the island is as beautiful as it is peaceful. Perched on top of the house he constructed with his own two hands, feeling the ocean breeze whip against his skin...there’s nothing like it.

But for many years, though he survives, Taeyong is unable to settle the one ache in his heart that seawater can’t fill. He’s safe, yes, but he’s alone. When storm winds bring Yuta’s failing ship to the island’s shore, Taeyong thinks it might be some sort of apology, or at least a form of cosmic balance.

The man he first worries is a threat quickly proves to be a steadfast friend and the perfect cure for Taeyong’s growing loneliness. The storms that Summer pass, the water ceases its rage, and yet Yuta stays. He slips almost effortlessly into Taeyong’s routine, to the point Taeyong can hardly remember a time he hasn’t been a part of it.

Yuta already knows the best ways to catch the variety of sea life that surrounds the island. He’s a fast learner for everything else. And where Taeyong is more fanciful with his thoughts, more prone to constructing entire worlds in his imagination, Yuta is focused on making those visions a reality. Slowly but surely, the island becomes less of a place where they happen to live and more of a home they’ve made their own.

Yuta’s time on the island changes him in more ways than one. Taeyong watches as the other man fills out the suggestion of lean muscle that had been there before, as cloudless days tan his skin to a sunkissed glow. He watches, a little too obviously, as Yuta’s hair grows from the choppy cut trimmed near his ears to wavy locks long enough to tie back with Taeyong’s ribbons of braided seaweed.

“You’re staring,” Yuta points out one Summer afternoon. “I probably need to cut it, don’t I?”

“No!” Taeyong protests more forcefully than he intended. His cheeks color of their own accord when the look of surprise on Yuta’s face morphs into a smile that knows far too much. Unnecessarily, he adds, “Shut up.”

Yuta laughs, then. He returns to hauling sheets of barnacle crusted metal from the washed-in shipwreck on the beach, though not before planting a grinning kiss to Taeyong’s temple.

Taeyong remains rooted to the spot long after the other man is gone, making eye contact with a curious seagull and repeating, still unnecessarily, “Shut up!”

☸

Things between them don’t change too drastically, which Taeyong is grateful for. Their routine is still routine, the comfortable atmosphere between them is still comfortable. If Yuta is a little easier with his touches, a little more playful with his words, Taeyong isn’t complaining.

Never having been one for change, keeping whatever it is between them unspoken seems like a safer option. He has the sea, he has the island, he has Yuta. He can think of nothing else that he’ll ever need.

And then it starts. So subtle are the changes at first that Taeyong almost doesn’t notice them: the extra hour or two Yuta spends out on the water when he’s fishing, the breaks he takes between building projects that he’d never taken before. The evenings Taeyong finds him perched on the cliffsides, staring out at the expanse of water with undisguised longing in his eyes.

By the time Taeyong realizes what’s going on, he knows it’s already too late. The sea has wound its tendrils around the greatest gift it ever gave, calling him to return to whence he came. But Taeyong doesn’t intend to let that happen without a fight.

During one of their evening meals by the light of the campfire, Taeyong leans his head on Yuta’s shoulder and curls into his warmth. He breathes in the smoky smell of burning wood and the salt on Yuta’s skin, a sigh coming unbidden from his lips when Yuta wraps one arm securely around his shoulders. After the reinforcements to one of their storage sheds is finished, Taeyong starts suggesting some of his more impractical ideas to work on next, a few of which manage to stick.

As long as they have a shared goal, he knows, Yuta will have less of a reason to answer that siren’s call from beyond the waves. Selfish as it may be, Taeyong doesn’t want to let him go.

☸

Summer comes and goes. The skies turn gray and the breeze turns colder, waves licking higher against the shore. Taeyong watches the painting of Yuta against the horizon with a growing sense of defeat. He can feel them finishing their projects one by one, Taeyong’s list running short of things to keep Yuta’s mind from wandering. Even when Yuta holds him close, Taeyong finds it hard to relax into the warmth when he’s terrified every time might be the last.

☸

“What if we set up that statue you always talked about?” Taeyong throws out one morning over breakfast.

It’s meant to sound casual, but even he’s not sure if the distress lacing those words is disguised. His other suggestions had been met with ambivalence at best, and all he can see in his mind’s eye is that same image of sea foam melting back into the water to leave him behind.

“Seriously?” Yuta frowns at him. “You never liked that idea. Like...any of the times I suggested it before. You insisted it wasn’t useful enough”

“Maybe I changed my mind,” Taeyong counters with a forced shrug.

“Really.”

“Is it that strange that I want to work on something with you? I just figured it was time to do something you wanted━”

“Taeyong.” Yuta stops him with a firm hand on his knee. “Tell me what’s really going on.”

And something about the easy touch, the sincere expression on Yuta’s face, sparks something beneath Taeyong’s skin. After all this time, how can Yuta not _see_?

“Are you doing this on purpose?” he asks. “Stringing me along? Because I didn’t think you were that kind of person, but maybe I was wrong.”

“What are you━?”

“Why would you act like you want to be with me and then change your mind about staying? Why would you not speak a word about it to me even when it seems like you’ve made your choice? Do you know how much that hurts?”

Yuta looks genuinely lost, which almost makes it worse. “I _do_ want to be with you. I thought I made that crystal clear. But being together means more than just always having to be in the same place.”

“I knew it.”

Taeyong’s heart drops to somewhere beneath his feet. Actions are meant to speak louder than words, he knows. Yet he’s always been someone who needs to hear things spoken aloud to judge their worth: feelings, intentions, truths. Now he knows for certain that the water’s pull hasn’t been some construct of his overactive imagination. He gave too little too late to stop it.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“What haven’t I given you?” Taeyong demands sharply, surprising both of them. “Is this island not enough? The life we’ve built together? Am _I_ not enough for you?”

“I never said that.” The warmth in Yuta’s eyes has always seemed like a place of safety. Now that blaze seems like it might be the start of something dangerous. “Meeting you was one of the best things to happen to me, but there’s so much more to the world, so many things to see and know. Limiting yourself to this place is━”

“Oh, I’m limiting myself now, am I? I’m a fool for wanting to stay?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I thought I knew you. Now I’m not so sure.”

Yuta opens his mouth, then shuts it before he can say a word. His face is stony as he abruptly rises to his feet. Taeyong angrily watches him walk a few feet from the dying fire before he realizes what direction Yuta is heading and scrambles to his feet.

“Where are you going?” he calls, rushing to catch up with the other man’s rapid strides.

“I’m taking my ship out for a while. I think we could both use some space.”

Taeyong stares at him in disbelief, halting his own steps long enough for Yuta to get in front of him again. “You can’t go out there!” he insists. “There’s a storm rolling in soon. Don’t you feel it on the wind?”

“Not for another few days. I’ll be back before then.”

“A few━?” Taeyong darts forward to grab his arm, stopping him from making it to the dock. “Think about this!”

The way Yuta pulls himself free of the grip isn’t gentle. “Taeyong,” he says sharply. “I’m leaving because I love you, and I don’t want either of us to say something we’ll regret. Okay?”

How _dare_ he? How dare he turn those words from what should be a happy memory into a weapon?

“Fine! Go!” Taeyong shouts at him, hating himself for the reflexive tears that rise to the corners of his eyes. “See if I care!”

He stalks away from the docks so he doesn’t have to face the other man in his moment of weakness, doesn’t have to watch as Yuta unties his ship from its mooring. Taeyong angrily puts out the last sparks of the fire and rearranges half of one shed before finally allowing himself to look at the new painting of Yuta’s steadily retreating back against the ash-gray morning sky.

☸

Despite the sharp edges of their fight, Taeyong doesn’t know if Yuta is serious about staying away. He goes about his day in the same fashion as he’d done for his years of solitude. He allows his anger to dull into a more honest ache of hurt, then tries to let that fade, too.

The next two days, he spends an hour of his afternoons at Yuta’s favorite spot by the cliffs, watching, but sees nothing beyond an endless blanket of restless blue-gray. This might really be the end, Taeyong realizes. Yuta might really be gone for good. Taeyong swallows down the lump in his throat and turns his full attention to boarding up every structure on the island to weather the encroaching storm.

There’s something different about this particular disturbance, Taeyong is forced to acknowledge. He can taste on his tongue the crackle of danger that looms over the worsening weather. This storm isn’t like the others he’s prepared for in the past. Still, he tries to push down that worry. It’s one more thing he’d have to deal with, and there’s not much he can do either way. He’s not about to abandon his home out of sheer paranoia. The port might not be any better off than the island with how close it is to the water.

No, Taeyong will stay here and weather the storm. He has to.

☸

When the storm has started building in earnest and Taeyong is hammering down another plank of wood over the last window, Yuta returns. He blows in on his ship not unlike the time they’d first met, long hair ripping itself free in the blowing gales from the braided ribbon Taeyong tries not to notice he’s still wearing.

Taeyong meets him at the dock with crossed arms and a carefully guarded expression. “I thought you weren’t coming back,” he says, one inflection away from accusatory. Yuta doesn’t rise to the bait.

“Of course I was. And this time when I leave, you’re coming with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve seen the storm. Something out there is _angry_. There’s no telling how much of the island will be left standing, and you won’t be safe in the middle of it.”

Those words have truth to them. Still, Taeyong feels his hackles instinctively raise. “It’s nothing I haven’t handled before.”

“You know that’s not true.”

Taeyong does know. If he allows himself to really think about it, the storm scares the hell out of him. But there are things that scare him much more. Once (maybe still), one of those things had been losing Yuta.

“I’m not leaving, and you won’t change my mind.”

“Why are you so insistent on staying?” Yuta demands, finally raising his voice.

“My parents lived and died here. This is my home.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to stay!”

“Yes, it does! It’s my duty to keep their memory alive now that they’re gone.”

“You don’t━!” Yuta cuts himself off, taking a deep breath before starting over. “You honor their memory by moving on to bigger and better things, not by scaring yourself into staying exactly as you’ve always been. Growing into the people we’re meant to be is what makes the people who care about us proud.”

For the first time that Taeyong can remember, it frightens him that Yuta can read him so well, can say just the words to cut to his core. Because try as he might to deny it, he knows that the reason he won’t leave has little to do with memories of the past and everything to do with fear: fear of leaving his carefully constructed world, fear of what he’d do next, fear of having no idea about the kind of person he wants to be.

He has no excuses left. And still, he opens his mouth and declares, “I’m staying.”

Yuta’s expression darkens with something unfamiliar. Before Taeyong can stop him, he’s throwing Taeyong over his shoulder and walking back to the boat. By the time Taeyong recovers his senses enough to struggle, kicking and yelling against the other man’s hold, he’s already back on board.

“Put me down!” he shouts against Yuta’s back. “Yuta, I swear━!”

“I will if you agree to come with me instead of staying here to drown. Deal?”

“Put me down _now_!”

If he’s not back on his own two feet in the next few seconds, Taeyong won’t hesitate to bite him, and he certainly won't hesitate to draw blood. Being hauled off is the most humiliating way he could have lost his agency to make a decision. Is this truly how Yuta sees him after so many hours spent learning each other’s every intricate detail? Like a dead weight to be dragged along without a say in the matter?

“Calm down for one second and think. Please.”

“ _Stop!_ ”

Taeyong manages to jab the toe of his boot into one of Yuta’s ribs, drawing out a surprised grunt. And at last, Yuta does stop. He sets Taeyong back on his feet, who scrambles backward out of reach a moment before he realizes his mistake. 

Taeyong sees the pained expression on Yuta’s face for a fraction of a second, and then a door is closing in his face, leaving only a stack of wooden crates and the glow of a single incandescent bulb hanging overhead. A few jiggles of the door’s handle confirm what he already suspected: he’s locked in.

“I’m not letting you die, Taeyong!” Yuta’s voice calls through the door. “Even if you’re going to be stubborn about it!”

Taeyong has never considered himself an angry person. A bit prickly sometimes, sure, and prone to outbursts of emotion when he’s held things in for too long, but he’s never been a losing control, forget his own name kind of angry. Until now. He bangs on the door and screams until his throat protests too much for him to continue. He’d scatter the contents of the crates in his rage but finds them all mockingly empty.

And through it all, he receives nothing but silence from the other side. Either Yuta is ignoring him, or he’s already gone. Taeyong glowers at his own shadow in a corner, defeated, and pretends that he doesn’t care.

☸

Yuta must come back at some point, because Taeyong wakes up with the rocking of the boat much more pronounced than when he’d fallen asleep in an exhausted, angry heap. He’s had time to calm down now, to some degree. He’s back from the point of wanting to draw blood. But broken trust is even harder to forgive than harsh words, and Taeyong isn’t sure where he stands on granting any of that forgiveness.

(He pointedly ignores the traitorous voice in his head that admonishes him for choosing possible death over the unknown in the first place. There’s a reason for that saying about good intentions.)

Yuta does come to let him out eventually. He looks both apologetic and sufficiently nervous when he opens the door. Good. At least he seems willing to accept the consequences of his choice. That doesn’t mean Taeyong is going to make things any easier for him.

“Finally came to see if I’d strangled myself in my sleep?”

“I came to see if you needed anything. And to apologize.” Yuta doesn’t break his gaze once. “I’m truly sorry for the way it happened, but I’m prepared for anything as long as you stay alive. Even you hating me for it.”

There are a lot of useless things Taeyong could say to that. He could ask why Yuta was willing to make that sacrifice, but he knows the truth of the bond between them. He could bite back about the other man apologizing after he already got his way, but he knows it’s too late to change that decision. He could even slam the door back in Yuta’s face without a word, but he’s tired of being angry. He settles on something that’s at least honest.

“You were out of line earlier when you called me out for staying. That wasn’t fair to back me into a corner.”

“I know. Even if I drew my own conclusions, I should have talked to you before. Recently you’ve just been so…”

“Frustrating. I know.” The admission of wrongs sits heavy in the air between them. Taeyong, at least, feels a little lighter with them out in the open.

“I packed a bag,” Yuta says after the silence has run its course. He’s holding it in his hand, Taeyong realizes. He hadn’t even noticed until now. “Before we left, I grabbed a few things that I knew were important to you. Just in case...just in case.”

Just in case there’s nothing to come back to. Taeyong accepts the bag with a flurry of mixed emotions swirling in his chest. Not quite forgiveness, not yet, but he’s willing to settle on a peace offering.

The ocean air out on the deck is easier to breathe than the stale air of the storage room. Taeyong greedily drinks it in, leaning against the mast and warily eyeing the open sea. Yuta watches him like he’s unsure if Taeyong is going to try and throw himself overboard. Fortunately for him, Taeyong isn’t that kind of fool.

“What's our plan?” Taeyong finally asks him. It sounds uncomfortably like admitting defeat to his own ears, but his mixed feelings aside, the truth of the matter is that he _did_ lose. Boarding up against the wind and rain is no longer an option. He needs to know what happens next.

“Right now, we’re getting ahead of the storm,” Yuta tells him. “Then we’ll break course and get out of its path before circling back around.”

He doesn’t sound hopeful, exactly, but he does sound less scared now that they’re having an actual conversation. At least that makes one of them.

“We’ll go back to the island after the storm passes through,” Yuta quickly adds. “I promise.”

Taeyong folds his arms over his chest. “And do you promise to never do this to me again?”

“If you promise not to throw your life away for something as useless as fear. You deserve better than that.”

Taeyong’s lips press together in a thin line at the words. A part of him still balks at being analyzed so bluntly, but for now he holds his tongue.

“Deal.”

☸

Being at sea with Yuta is...different. For one, words between them are sparse. Making friendly conversation would be glossing over how they got here, but neither of them have the energy nor desire to continue fighting. So they both toe a careful neutral with brief exchanges, focusing instead on fishing for next meals and keeping their sails pointed true.

Though they manage to keep out of the storm’s path, everything around them serves as a reminder of the danger licking at their heels if they stay too long in one place. The waves move in restless motions as if preparing to surge forward without warning. The sky remains gray and overcast, making the passage of time almost imperceptible until nightfall has come and gone.

Taeyong finds himself spending most of the journey staring out at the open ocean with his hands gripped tightly around the ship’s rails. It had taken him more time than he cares to admit to feel comfortable enough to approach the edge, still makes something curl in his gut when they pass over a large enough swell, but how he finds it hard to leave. What a strange thing, to feel so horrified at the thought of being cut off from his only anchor and yet not be able to stop staring.

Once, when Taeyong looks off into the distance, his eyes find something other than waves and sky. The fog settling over a string of strange, rocky formations makes for a fuzzy impression, but it’s clear enough for him to know that his eyes aren’t deceiving him. There’s something out there. Something he doesn’t remember seeing on any map, if he’s still judging their position correctly.

“What are those?” he asks aloud, intruding on the silence that’s taken up semi-permanent residence between them.

Yuta doesn’t take long to figure out what Taeyong’s question is referring to. When he does, he smiles. “I have no idea,” he says, a look in his eyes that Taeyong has trouble placing. Wistful, maybe, or more along the lines of resigned wonder.

Taeyong stares into that unknown and feels an unfamiliar sensation tug at his heart, one that he quickly locks away before it can take hold.

☸

Though the endless gray makes it hard to imagine on more than one occasion, the storm does pass. Taeyong knows they can both feel it on the wind when the wrath they’d been facing dies away. A nod of silent understanding is all that passes between them before they’re turning the boat around.

Even from a distance, even without looking, Taeyong can tell that something has changed. His paradise has suffered during the time they’ve been separated, and he can feel that pain just as sharply as if it had been his own. Part of him thinks he should have been here to help shoulder the burden. A wiser part knows that he couldn’t have done anything to ease the pain even if he’d stayed. (A part that sounds far too much like Yuta reminds him that staying would probably have been the last choice he ever made.)

The dock is in ruins. Wood has splintered and washed out to sea, leaving the only way off the boat to be hopping in a stilted path up the rocks on the island’s edge. Yuta has his work cut out for him trying to find a way to anchor the boat to something that’s not in danger of breaking off or floating away. Taeyong, however, doesn’t wait up for him. He has to see what remains of his home with his own eyes. Alone.

Even with all their fortifications, the structures that Taeyong has spent a lifetime perfecting have been badly hit by the storm. Taeyong stands in the center of what was the lookout tower, his house, Yuta’s house, the covered garden...and he feels a part of himself fall to ruin just the same. He doesn’t weep, but he mourns.

Eventually, Yuta joins him. The other man sweeps calculating eyes over the full extent of the damage before turning a gentler gaze to Taeyong himself. For a moment, Taeyong thinks he’ll reach out and try to comfort him. He can see Yuta’s hand raise half an inch before it falls back to his side. Then Yuta takes a deep breath, picks up the nearest wayward tool he can find, and goes to work.

For the rest of the day, they move without pause, alternating between cleaning up debris and using what’s still salvageable to rebuild. Things aren’t returning to normal, not even close, but at least it’s more bearable to look when less evidence of the island’s pain is strewn across the ground like an open wound.

Night falls, there’s still only one house with enough walls to sleep in, and Yuta keeps a careful distance as he curls up on Taeyong’s floor. It can’t be the most comfortable place to lay. Taeyong is still angry enough at him to enjoy it for all of a few minutes before the guilty churn in his stomach is ignored in favor of thinking about nothing at all. Forgiveness still isn’t so easily won.

The ghost of their old routine settles in. Over the next few weeks, they lock themselves in that same cycle: clean up, rebuild, eat, sleep. Slowly but surely, the buildings reform into what they once were. The island’s pain fades to a dull wound that weighs less heavily on Taeyong’s heart. Yuta’s house is repaired enough for him to sleep in his own room, finally leaving Taeyong to his own devices. And the strangest thing occurs.

Something still feels off. Taeyong wanted to believe that the less than seamless transition back to his old life was because of his lingering anger, because of Yuta’s close proximity to him in this most private of spaces when he still hadn’t sorted out his feelings. With Yuta out of the equation, Taeyong is left with nothing but silence and the bare bones of the truth he’s known ever since his feet sank back into the sand: the island hasn’t changed. He has.

Taeyong can reconstruct a carbon copy of the haven that had kept him safe and happy for years, but it will never again feel the same. Because seeing the world beyond these shores, seeing what he’s missing out on, seeing what he could be...you don’t come back from that as the same person you’ve always been. Taeyong no longer feels right staying here day after day, locked in his once-comfortable routine.

And that’s terrifying.

☸

He said it once, and he’ll say it again: even before, Taeyong had understood why Yuta picked this spot by the northern cliffs as his favorite place to sit. Taeyong wakes up early to seek it out, looking out over the water like he’d done for days at sea and letting his thoughts rise and fall with each cresting wave.

The sky has lost most of its gray hue after the storm. Once, it might have seemed vibrant, but now the undisturbed swath of blue doesn’t look nearly as bright to his searching eyes. It’s not good, not bad. It just...is.

Some time later, Yuta sits beside him. When Taeyong grounds himself enough to look at the other man’s expression, he finally doesn’t see something foreign to him. This time, he finds a kinship in that faraway look.

“You’re going to ask me if you can leave, aren’t you?” A question, not an accusation. Even if Taeyong doesn’t like it, he thinks now that he can understand.

“No,” Yuta tells him, meeting his gaze fully for the first time since they’ve docked. “I’m going to ask you to come with me.”

Maybe Taeyong should feel more surprised. Maybe once he would have been. He _had_ been before, when Yuta had demanded it more out of necessity than asking a genuine question.

“And why is that?” he asks, because he needs to be told. He needs to be sure.

“Because as beautiful as this place is, I believe you’re meant for greater things.”

So close. “And?”

Yuta’s voice is so gentle, it almost feels like it might fall into the water below, were it not for the strength of the conviction behind it. “Because I love you, and I want you with me even though I can’t stay here any longer.”

Loose stones seem to tremble beneath Taeyong’s fingers. The palms surrounding them lean forward in anticipation, the breeze stilling with hushed anticipation.

“And if I say no?”

“Then I’ll leave, but I’ll understand you wanting to stay. And I’ll still love you all the same.” Wavering only once, honest and true.

The island sings. Taeyong cups Yuta’s face with the same tenderness that he’s been shown, finally tasting the salt on his lips and the truth of the words on his tongue. There’s no anger to fall away, because it’s already long gone. Taeyong’s heart and mind are clear as he says his final goodbye.

And he decides.

☸

Taeyong knew he’d find him here. For all the nagging that Yuta does about both of them getting enough sleep each night, the other man has grown fond of waking up early enough to see the sunrise bleed over the horizon, lighting up the dark sky with oranges and purples that reflect on the water’s surface like something out of a mad artist’s dreams. Taeyong joins him at the helm of the ship with arms wrapped around his waist and a chin resting on Yuta’s shoulder, who squeezes one of Taeyong’s hands in acknowledgement.

It seems so foolish now, the imagery of Yuta disappearing into the water. How can Taeyong begin to imagine it, when the other man is warm and alive beside him? Taeyong had known familiarity before, had known comfort, but now he thinks he’s found what he can resolutely call happiness.

True to its nature, the sea continues to provide. It always has a way of revealing lost things that others have nearly given up searching for, of revealing uncharted areas for them to explore. Sometimes it feels like a new world opens up each morning they wake up out on the water.

In truth, some things haven’t changed. Taeyong still doesn’t know what he wants to do or who he wants to be. But he knows he’s happy. He knows that he’s with someone he loves. And most importantly, he knows that when that moment comes to beckon him toward his destiny, he won’t be afraid to answer the call.

Because the very sea that had allowed Taeyong to put down his roots and grow, the same sea that had given him the other half of his heart, has finally given him peace.


End file.
